From the Ashes
by EvilRegalOncer
Summary: In the midst of death, something will finally heal. Narcissa sees Andromeda after the Battle of Hogwarts.


**Disclaimer: Don't own HP.**

**Okay, so this is another horribly overdone scene after the Battle of Hogwarts, but I decided to give it a go anyways.**

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><p><em>Over. It's over.<em>

That thought is the only thing bouncing around inside your numb brain as a great roar erupts from the Hall. You reach out and pull your son close, and he buries his face against your neck, finally cracking, finally allowing himself to release all the fear and terror and horror of the past year. Just a boy, just a boy and yet he already has the eyes of an old man who has seen too much. Sometimes when you look at his eyes you shiver because he has the seeds of what you saw in—but no. No, you won't—can't—think about her now, not when everyone is celebrating the fall of the dark Lord and all you want to do is scream for your sister. A small part of you knows that your big sister has been dead for years now, that Azkaban completely erased the fierce guardian you once loved with all your heart. But at least she was alive, at least you still had her in some tiny way.

Lucius wraps his arms around you from behind, and you feel his body shaking too. Suddenly it's all you can do not to cry; the Dark Lord never had much direct involvement with you, but you've shared the horror he inflicted on your family for all these horrible months. Your husband buries his face in your hair, and you reach back and grasp his hand tightly. There will be time later; all the time in the world to hold him in your arms, to kiss him and reassure both of you that this isn't some kind of cruel, beautiful dream. At last you will have what was promised to you; you will have his forever as he has yours.

Your eyes roam over the dead laid on the floor, morbid curiosity drawing your gaze like a magnet. Some of them you vaguely recognize, pureblood surnames floating to the surface of your memory, although most weren't the kind you associated with in your youth. An unexpected pang twists your chest as you see one of Molly Weasley's sons lying still on the stone surface of the Great Hall. Blood traitor or no, she was still a mother—her challenge to Bellatrix proved that beyond a doubt. You shiver faintly and draw Draco closer.

And then the crowd shifts slightly and you catch a glimpse of vivid pink. Your heart seems to stop beating; time slows to a crawl, and the world falls away except for that one ray of color. _Meda._ That's Meda's daughter, that's the Auror girl. A flash from the battle causes your stomach to churn wildly.

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><p><em>Narcissa dashes through the grounds of Hogwarts, eyes desperately straining through clouds of dust and smoke and the bright blazes of spellwork for a glimpse of white-blond hair. She rounds a corner and almost runs into Bellatrix. "Bella! Have you—?"<em>

_But Bellatrix isn't listening; she doesn't even know her little sister is there. Instead the witch lets out a blood-lusted screech, her wand slashing and twirling in the fierce dance of battle. "Come on, you filthy half-blood, don't you want to avenge your pet wolf?"_

_"SHUT UP ABOUT REMUS, YOU BITCH!" Her opponent roars, grief and hatred twisting her pretty face. Narcissa freezes as she recognizes the girl from an article in the Prophet nearly two years previously. It had mentioned the Department of Mysteries episode with the return of the Dark Lord, and inside there'd been a mention of the Aurors who had rushed to Potter's aid along with a photo of each. The young witch's name had leapt out at her: Nymphadora Tonks._

_Bellatrix screams in triumph as a jet of light shoots from her wand. Nymphadora's emotions cloud her focus and she doesn't move fast enough to block. She falls to the flagstones, wand slipping from limp fingers as her body writhes in agony. Her screams seem to claw at Narcissa's heart._

_Narcissa forces herself to start moving again. The girl is none of her concern; she must find Draco. As she dashes back the way she came, she silences the part of her that desperately wants to save that young woman._

_Wants to save Andromeda's daughter._

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><p>A keening cry rips you from your memory. You're surprised to see how much the Hall has emptied; how long have you been sitting here? But as you find the source of the noise, your heart twists so painfully you almost cry out yourself: Andromeda is on her knees in front of her daughter's cold body, holding a small bundle close to her chest as she breaks into wrenching sobs. The years have been kind to her, unlike Bella; she's aged with a grace you wouldn't expect from the girl who would rather stay in a corner and read than participate in an elaborate ball. It's absolutely heartbreaking to watch her, your strong sister completely and utterly shattered as she crouches in a world emptied of all love and meaning except for the little wad of blankets clutched in her arms.<p>

You aren't aware of rising, of gently letting go of Draco and slipping away from Lucius' embrace. All you know is that it's your Meda and you missed her so, so much all these long years and you can't bear to see her in such horrible agony. Even though Bella was by far the one who kept her emotions under lock and key, Andromeda always possessed an inner strength that made it seem like nothing could ever break her. Bella was like an iron post: Once she reached her breaking point, she snapped completely and irreparably. Andromeda was different; she bent and rolled with the blows but never gave in. Not until now.

When you reach her, you stop, suddenly afraid. You were part of the organization who murdered her husband, the sister who never stepped in as Bella killed both Sirius and Nymphadora. But your love and protective instinct overtake the fear, and you crouch, wrapping your only, shattered sister in your arms. "I'm sorry," you whisper, voice shaking with years of love and pain and guilt. "I'm so sorry, Meda. I love you."

It is a mark of your sister's grief that she doesn't pull away or push back against you. Instead Andromeda rests her head on your shoulder as she cries, tears soaking your robes. You hold her as tightly as you can, as if the pressure will somehow hold her together and keep her from falling the way Bella did. You're dimly aware of rocking her gently, the way you did with Draco when he was a child and the way Andromeda surely did with her daughter.

After a long, long time, you feel her fingers gently wrap around your wrist. Looking down in surprise, you hear her murmur, in a voice almost too soft to be heard, "Cissy."

And in that small moment, when the world is bathed in blood and grief and broken souls, something finally—miraculously—heals.


End file.
